


The Beauty of a Red Sunset

by LuckyLadyLily



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Asexual Character, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, F/M, Lesbian Character, Polyamory, Slow Burn, gérard lacroix is asexual, more tags as they are necessary, they are poly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 19:57:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14064414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyLadyLily/pseuds/LuckyLadyLily
Summary: The fall of Overwatch had many causes. Perhaps the most important was Amélie Lacroix.





	The Beauty of a Red Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, this is NOT a fic about getting Gérard out of the way for Amélie to be with Angela. Nor is Gérard asexual for that reason. Second, this is going to follow the large strokes of Overwatch canon. This means very bad things happen to pretty much everyone, in particular Amélie and Gérard. Third, this is going to be a long fic with lots of chapters. I will tag individual chapters with explicit or violent content in case people want to skip over those things. Chapter 1 has neither. It is extremely self indulgent.
> 
> Important Headcanon: Torbjörn raised Angela after her parents died at a young age. She is his adopted daughter, he is her father, and Bridgette is her sister.

Angela never really enjoyed black tie affairs. It wasn't the dress code; she actually enjoyed the opportunity to dress up. It did wonders for her confidence. The problem was the people. Black tie meant PR stunt, and PR meant she had to play nice with every sleazy politician who wanted a photo op with the Angel of Overwatch.

Ana and Morrison had made it abundantly clear that this was a necessary part of her job. Not only necessary, quite important if they were to be believed. Overwatch had dealt with a number of publicity nightmares in the last year but somehow Angela’s reputation had weathered it all. Overwatch needed the positive press desperately. That meant charity events, and charity events meant Angela had to deal with the type of people who pretend to care.

That didn’t means she had to like it. 

Thankfully, finally, things seemed to be slowing down. It was late enough in the evening that everyone who wanted a piece of her had already gotten what they came for. She could sit down and relax. Take off the damn heels. In maybe 20 minutes she could slip out and no one would notice.

In the meantime she took the opportunity to do a bit of people watching. Overwatch in general were not the black tie sorts, it was always interesting to see what they came up with, how they dealt with the tedium. 

Reinhardt was the first to draw her eye, standing a head and a half over the next tallest person in the room. He was gesturing wildly, no doubt recounting some magnificent tale of danger and bravery, suitably embellished of course. Angela could hear his voice from across the ballroom, though even if she could only catch a word here and there. His muscles strained against the tuxedo that had been custom made for his gigantic frame. Angela gave even odds that he would split a seam before the night was over.

Where Reinhardt was Torbjörn would not be far behind, but Angela spotted Bridgette first. She was listening to Reinhardt with rapt attention, hanging on every word of the epic saga Reinhardt was spinning. She wore an attractive dress, suitably modest for a teenager. Angela thought she might recognize it from her prom photo.

Torbjörn was next to her. He had chosen military formal, but more notably was wearing the claw arm Bridgette had designed for him. It was a brilliant piece of engineering, ideal for the hardened battle conditions dad often found himself in, but it could have been made of wood and the proud father would have been showing it off just the same. It looked like he was filling his usual role of calling out the more ridiculous elements of Reinhardt’s tall tale.

Lena was not too far from Angela. She had worn a full tux, chronal accelerator over the shirt but under the jacket. It was a good look, she could have stepped off the set of the latest Bond film. She either hadn’t done her hair or had deliberately messed it up since the party had started. It was back to the spiky mess she usually wore; It looked better that way anyway. As usual she had found some pretty woman and was chatting her up. Angela remembered being on the receiving end of Lena’s flirtations. It had taken her a full ten minutes to realize what was going on, and she had been so taken off guard that she had blurted out “Oh! Your flirting with me!” within earshot of Ana. It had been embarrassing for both of them, but Lena’s game had improved greatly since then. Angela wondered if Ana had taken pity on the girl and given her a few pointers.

The woman Lena had approached was… well, Lena was nothing if not ambitious. In a word she was gorgeous. Perhaps two, maybe three years older than Lena, she was tall and a little intimidating. She wore a white dress with golden highlights that contrasted magnificently with her dark skin. She also had an impressive prosthetic left arm. Vishkar tech, if Angela was any judge, but far more elegant and advanced than the regularly available civilian models. It looked custom made. Whoever this woman was she was very important, rich, or both. Based on her body language Lena was actually doing pretty well, Angela would have to ask her how it went in the morning.

McCree and Genji were hovering near the drinks speaking to a group of Omnics. Monks, if Angela recalled correctly. Their leader had introduced himself, it had been one of the more pleasant interactions Angela had that evening. They were likely there to speak with Genji, he had become something of a celebrity. Half omnic, half human, a symbol of potential unification. Genji was one of the few who was at place in these kinds of events, his history had required him to deal with formality from an early age. He had the unique talent of getting even the stuffy types to let their hair down. He was wearing a well tailored suit that could have come straight out of the 1950’s, a fashion currently popular among Omnics.

Reyes had apparently given Jesse “a talkin’ to” (as Jesse would have put it.) Last time he had shown up in what he had called “cowboy formal”, this time he was in a suit. Unlike Genji he was clearly out of his element, shifting uncomfortably and messing with his tie knot every few seconds. He was wearing his best Stetson, Angela doubted the combined forces of heaven and hell could stop that. 

McCree spotted her from across the room and tipped his hat to her. She waved back to him.

Ana, Jack, and Reyes were all in the same corner, speaking to someone Angela could not identify in a formal military uniform Angela could not place. He would have had to be extremely important to command the attention of three top Overwatch agents at once. Or he was an old friend and they were gossiping. Of the four Angela’s eyes were mostly drawn towards Ana. She couldn’t really help it, Ana was, well, dashing in her formal uniform.

Hovering at the refreshments table too far away were Winston and Fareeha. Winston had probably excused himself from Lena’s conversation to give her more room to work her magic, they were usually inseparable. He was shoveling the remains of the fruit salad onto a plate that looked comically small in his large hands. Like Reinhardt he wore a custom made suit; unlike Reinhardt it actually seemed to fit.

Fareeha just seemed bored. She had probably attached to Winston because he was always good for a joke or two. Angela’s eyes lingered on her for a little longer than the others. She wasn’t part of Overwatch, but she was an old friend. She was also extremely attractive in her long, elegant evening dress. The dark blue really worked for her, as did the low cut back and neck line. She was dressed to impress. Angela wondered who it was for.

Angela tore her eyes away.  _ Don't ogle the boss’s daughter. _ She told herself. 

“Enjoying the view?” A familiar voice asked.

Angela turned to Moira. She had snuck up and taken the seat next to her while Angela had been distracted, she always loved to make a good entrance.

“Where have you been all night?” Angela asked. There was no point denying that she had been staring at Fareeha, it would only encourage Moira.

“Found an innocent little blonde early in the night. We excused ourselves.” Moira said without the slightest hint of shame.

“Of course you did.” Angela said, looking over Moira. She could hardly blame the mystery woman for jumping at the opportunity, Moira was devastatingly handsome in her expensive three piece suit, nails and lips painted a deep crimson. Moira invested in extremely high quality cosmetics for exactly this reason, you couldn’t have guessed at her recent activities based on her appearance. 

“My new friend had to take a cab home, unfortunately.” Moira said, sipping from a wine glass. “Would you like to take her place?”

It was a casual offer, the kind Angela had come to expect from Moira since they had started sleeping together. They no longer shocked her, though she did blush slightly as she considered what the older doctor had in mind. She decided against it however, she was already quite tired from the evening and Moira was, well, not so gentle.

“I think I will pass, thank you.” Angela said. “Maybe some other time.” She added sincerely. Moira only nodded, making no indication of disappointment.

They sat in silence, observing the crowd together for several moments before Moira spoke up.

“Amélie is especially radiant tonight.” Moira observed, gesturing across the room.

Angela followed where Moira indicated, spotting Gérard Lacroix and a woman who had her arm linked around his. There was a large crowd around them; at the moment Gérard was the golden boy for his highly successful efforts against the terrorist group Talon. It wasn’t surprising that this was the first time she had seen him all night, the ballroom had been overcrowded and it was just starting to thin out. Angela didn’t really know him, he was in an entirely different division. He was handsome enough, and Ana, Reyes, and Morrison had nothing but praise for him. 

The woman on his arm could only be his wife, Amélie. Angela knew her only by reputation, she had never met her before. If anything Moira was understating it. She wasn’t just radiant, she was stunning. Her dress bordered on the line between risque and scandalous, but she was making it work quite excellently. Angela knew she was a world class ballerina, and it showed. Other women were thin; Amélie was lean but clearly in amazing shape. She had muscles that made Angela stare just a bit longer than was really polite. What was more she was clearly in her element, working the crowd alongside her husband. 

“Isn’t that a bit rude? Shouldn’t it be Madame Lacroix?”

“Amélie to her friends.” Moira said.

“You on first name terms with Amélie Lacroix?” Angela asked incredulously. “I don’t believe you.” 

“Believe it or don’t. I am not going to try to convince you.” Moira said.

Angela looked at the doctor critically. As always she was about as easy to read as a brick wall.

“Not that I believe you, but how?” Angela asked.

Moira turned slightly, looking towards Angela out of the corner of her eye.

“No. You didn’t.” Angela said.

Moira turned back to look at Amélie. A few moments later Amélie was scanning over the crowd, and her eyes found the pair of doctors. She waved, and Moira returned the wave by casually lifting a pair of fingers.

“ _ She’s married. _ ” Angela hissed.

“Gérard is quite supportive of his wife’s hobbies.” Moira said.

“Oh, fuck you.” Angela said.

* * *

 

Amélie collapsed onto her bed face first. Her feet were killing her. That is what she got for wearing stilettos.

“You alright?” Gérard said, sitting down next to her, removing his bowtie and unbuttoning his shirt.

“My feet feel like lead.” Amélie said, her voice muffled by the sheets. She turned her head, looking at her husband. “Help me get this dress off?” She asked.

“Of course.” Gérard said, finding the concealed zipper and pulling the straps off her shoulders. Amélie stood back up, letting the dress fall to the floor.

“That was fun.” She said, walking towards her dresser and pulling out a comfortable pair of underwear and cotton pajamas. She quickly stripped off the lace she had been wearing and put on the much more comfortable clothes.

“You should come to these events more. You need more breaks from your work.” Gérard said.

“Ha! Hypocrite.” Amélie responded, flopping down next to him and wrapping her arms around his leg.

“Shouldn’t you remove your makeup?” He asked.

“Ugh, I’ll do it in the morning.” She said.

“That is bad for your skin. You told me not to let you do that.” He said.

“Uh-uh. Staying here.” She said.

“I need to go brush my teeth, Amélie.” He said. She tightened her grip on his leg in response. He spent a few moments trying to pry her arms off his leg before he decided to simply pull her off the bed. She yelped as she fell to the ground.

“So rude.”

“Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?” He asked, pulling his leg from her grip.

“I’m just going to sleep on the floor. That will show you.” She said.

“I’ll make you a deal. You get ready for bed properly and I’ll give you a foot massage when you get back.”

“... Deal.”

Amélie got up off the ground and went to her vanity to sit down. She found her makeup wipes, but she was wearing high quality stuff. It took some work to get to it come off. Then there were special lotions for her hands and feet, a careful washing of her face and then another special lotion to help avoid lines. All in all it took her a good 15 minutes before she could return to bed. She wasn’t a model, but she her appearance was a significant part of her career and she had to maintain. Good to his word Gérard was waiting for her.

“So you enjoyed yourself.” He said as he began working the soreness out of her feet. Amélie knew he had been a bit nervous about it.

“There were so many interesting people!” She said. “A lot better than the self important prima donnas I usually deal with. There was a gorilla! He seemed a bit shy.”

“Winston is one of the foremost physicists in the world.” Gérard said.

“I know! Isn’t that amazing?” Amélie said. “The cowboy was fun.”

“Yes, we do have some colorful characters in our ranks.”

Amélie relaxed for a few minutes, letting Gérard work his magic.

“There was a woman. Blonde, maybe thirty? She was wearing a modest black dress, she was sitting next to Moira near the end of the night.”

“I think you might be talking about Dr. Ziegler. She works in Overwatch with Moira.” Gérard said, deciding that the massage was finished. He laid down next to his wife. Amélie turned to him and grinned.

“She was staring at me.” Amélie said in a sing song voice.

“Lots of people were staring at you. You were a stare worthy sight.” Gérard commented.

“Yeah, but I noticed  _ her _ .” Amélie said, pulling his arm over her, arranging herself as the small spoon. Gérard snuggled his face up into the crook of her neck and kissed her.

“You are adorable when you get excited.” He said. “I actually happen to know she is interested in women. She dated one of my recruits.”

There was a long pause.

“Do you think she would be interested in me?” Amélie asked.

“If she isn’t she has exceptionally bad taste.” He said.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a blog on tumblr where I will be posting chapter progress reports to keep myself motivated: https://luckyladylily.tumblr.com/


End file.
